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CHAPTER 6: PASS THE HONEY
What sounded like ice cubes made a cold, tingling noise as they hit the ground and continued to slide freely in all directions of the kitchen floor. Aizawa squinted his eyes, pained by the light coming from the freezer, contrasting with the darkness he was surrounded by. Without giving it much thought, he turned the light switch on, his body ready to jump in action at the first sign of an attack.
"what the-" he mumbled, but another high-pitched feminine shriek made his ears feel like falling. He covered his ears and reopened his eyes. "Are you serious?"
He rolled his eyes in frustration. If there was someone he was counting on not running by was Yaoyorozu, and yet, here she was, clothed in her huge NY shirt and tiny black shorts, her face covered with her hands.
"Mr. Aizawa…"
"No you listen." he interrupted abruptly, walking into the kitchen. "It's bad enough that your stealth hasn't improved one bit, but-"
"Professor Aizawa…"
"Don't interrupt me!" he was so mad, this was the kind of surprises he hated. "But covering your face like a frightened little girl when you could know if I was a villain or some kind of attacker-"
"ERASERHEAD" Momo's voice called impetuously begging for his attention as her hands still were being used as a human shield. He went silent for once. "You, your, I mean. Your less is shirt," she said as her hands lowered down and her eyes went up. "I mean!-"
"Oh." was all he said when he finally understood what she meant. The reason they had bumped into each other was because of Aizawa's midnight shower routine. He usually took a bath in the common showers and then, confident that there was no one awake, he would walk to his room wearing nothing but his shorts and his sandals. "Fuck, I-I'm so sorry, hold on a minute." the man with the wet low, messy bun apologized.
Momo's cherry-colored cheeks were hot against her cold fingers that were just grabbing the ice. Her eyes came back from the ceiling tour they had gone too a little bit too early, and she got to see a wall of slim, pale muscles in front of her, with scars here and there carved as hieroglyphics on a pilar. The sight was too manly to bare, so her eyes rested on her wrist (which still hurt) as he put on the warm grey t-shirt.
They both stood quietly, looking at each other until it was clearly awkward.
"I'm sorry I was-"
"You really shouldn't-"
A silence full of expectation again reigned the room. He had never seen how long Yaoyorozu's hair was, falling almost to the length of her waist. So that's what smelled like vanilla the other night.
Aizawa was much taller than her, so she had to look up. Her hands went up to her chest, protecting her wrist. The trunk where she kept most of her precious memories at the U.A. barely opened to let one mental image out: Aizawa's glance at her on her first final exams, when she had paired with Todoroki to beat their professor. The pair of mischievous and intriguing eyes that had possessed her that day had made their new appearance. And just as that day, she looked away.
Frowning an eyebrow, he observed how she knelt in front of him to pick up the pieces of ice. He knelt too.
"Planning on freezing a body?" he asked her casually, to lighten the mood.
"Nah, just breaking the ice," she said with a small, nervous smile. A masculine snort made her feel less stiff.
"Geez, your jokes are worst than your stealth Barbie," was his answer as he stood up straight and walked to the sink to throw away the ice. Now it was Momo's turn to frown.
"Hey! And what's with this Barb-ouch!" she couldn't finish filing her complaint, for she had forgotten all about her wrist and had tried to use it as a support to get up, resulting in unmistakable agony. He rushed to grab her by the right forearm and helped her take a sit in one of the kitchen's high stools near the counter.
"I'm fine don't worry I just…" the last thing she needed was him thinking she was weak.
"No, you're not. I've seen you today in class." He went behind the counter to get a wet towel. "This is why you didn't take notes today, right?" Momo could only see his broad shoulders as he wrapped the ice he had left on the sink. Aizawa then came back and asked for her hand. "Your wrist is hurt." something in his deep black eyes twinkled with tenderness, making her feel safe. Her hand automatically flew to meet his col, long fingers. He carefully let the wrapped ice rest on her swollen wrist.
Professor Aizawa was taking a look at her wrist while patting it with the ice. Momo found herself staring at his pale features. The scruff surrounding his jaw and part of his neck, along with the wide and profound scar below his eye usually gave him quite a menacing look, but with his hair pulled away and his closeness made her realize there were other treats of him that made him seem more...attractive? Her face felt hot at the thought but didn't get her to look away. There was something in the narrow and slim profile of his nose that tremendously contrasted with his virile cheekbones and jawline. His lips were thin yet full, with a lovely rosy color hidden by the bristles surrounding them.
She felt the sudden embarrassment of staring too much and quickly pretended to see her wrist. When her professor finally looked up, she hoped her blush had faded even a little.
"Wait here," he ordered, handing her the ice. She saw his tall, brawny silhouette go upstairs.
There was nothing but pain and confusion bubbling inside of her, aside from her raging hunger which she chose not to páy so much attention to. Momo was confident that he would give her another lecture on her clumsiness, and yet he had been so caring. In the past years, she had gotten to know her homeroom teacher, she had seen very few of his facets. There was the pro-hero side, Eraserhead, always logical, and ready to protect. There was professor Aizawa, with his constant careless opinion about everything, caring that dirty yellow sleeping bag as if it came along with that wry long face of his as a kit. However, who was this ordinary man who preferred past-midnight showers and called her names?
She had little time to reflect on this, for the long-haired man in question was back with a wooden box. He turned the single lamp above Yaoyorozu and sat on the stool beside her. Her ponderings had curiosity had taken a tremendous amount of her attention, that he hadn't noticed the pocket knife Mr. Aizawa was carrying on his mouth. He proceeded to take her wrist again.
"What are you doing?! Are you crazy?!" even if she could not properly raise her voice, her tone sounded as scared as it was surprised. Aizawa took the knife and put it on the table.
"Relax, kid. It's not as if I was going to amputate your hand." manly, rugged hands moved swiftly, opening the wooden box to reveal a first aid kit. Odd, it wasn't the first aid kit given to every dorm by recovery girl. He took an unlabeled tin which contained a brown, iffy looking balm. Aizawa took some of the balm on his hands and rubbed his palms together with it several times. "Now, this might hurt," he mentioned before delicately holding her hand. "Stay still, kid."
The warmed-up balm applied to her wrist, along with the gentle massage gave her instant relief. She couldn't help but show it, exhaling with alleviation. After a few minutes, he then proceeded to take out the bandages to immobilize the wrist.
"Done," Aizawa exclaimed with half a smile.
"Thank you so much." Momo was surprised that her gratitude was not masked by her usual politeness. When her eyes stopped admiring the excellent job Mr. Aizawa had done, she noticed he was moving around the kitchen, grabbing a kettle, and looking for some tea in the pantry.
"Why didn't you go to Recovery Girl?" silence was the only companion of the boiling, bubbly water. He was facing the stove, scamming unbothered through the different tea bags.
I felt embarrassed, unworthy of her quirk being wasted in such a foolish wound.
"I didn't have a teacher's note." she hoped the excused sounded at least half sincere. Aizawa picked two tea bags and proceeded to look for two cups.
"And you couldn't lie to Recovery Girl," Aizawa pointed out. He stood in front of her, on the opposite side of the counter, and handed her the cup of tea.
"It's not like it's broken. No big deal." she took a sip of what seemed to be cinnamon tea. Her eyes looked up from behind her teacup. His dark, usually serene eyes were now fixated on her with concern.
"Listen," a hand went to the back of his neck as he started. Momo realized this was important, and put down her tea. "I want to apologize."
The words that came out of his mouth confused her. She thought he would start talking about a proper punishment for what she had done. She knew Aizawa. The last time a pair of students had done something scandalous, he was so mad he had made Bakugo and Midoryia scrub the floors for days. She was so sure something similar was about to happen to her, that she was willing to accept it as long as she could keep her scholarship intact.
Her eyelashes fluttered in astonishment. Professor Aizawa, the cold and dreadful Eraserhead feared by so many villains was holding her wrist and asking for forgiveness.
"What you did was obviously wrong," he continued without releasing her wrist from his tender grasp. "But still, that second pull to my ropes was uncalled for, and I ended up hurting you." Mr. Aizawa finally let go of her wrist, sighing in disappointment. He glanced back at her, and Momo's heart was warmed up by the gentle look on his face. "Anyway, I hope we can get past this and start over."
He waited for her reply, unsure of what her reaction could be. It was not usual for him to apologize to anyone for his behavior, but he knew it was important to be in good terms with her, for the benefit of both. If they were to spend a whole year training, it was better to take the first step towards peace. Yaoyorozu stared at him for several seconds, fluttering her eyelashes as she drank her tea. Now, this is getting annoying, she better say something now.
"Could you pass the honey?"
His eyes widened, clearly insulted.
"Excuse me? That is all you're going to say?"
"...pretty please?" she added, secretly enjoying how flustered and mad Mr. Aizawa was getting. He rolled his eyes and fetched the honey for her.
"Spoiled little brat," he mumbled as he grabbed his cup of tea. "Sorry for sneaking into your bedroom and disturbing you with my loud and pathetic entrance in the middle of the night, Mr. Aizawa." his high-pitched whispering trying to imitate her almost made Momo spat out her tea. Aizawa noticed her clumsy attempt not to spill her drink and a discreet smile hid behind his teacup. "Drunky."
"Fine, fine," Momo finally said after trying not to make noise with her laughter. "I'm sorry." They both drank their tea in silence, trying to hide the fact that they wanted both to look at each other.
"Anyways," once he had finished his tea, he put the empty cup on the sink. "Try to get some rest, kid." Mr. Aizawa's fit, relaxed figure headed to the stairs. "See you after class for our first training session."
The last gulp of tea hardly passed through Momo's closed throat. "What?!" she managed to respond. Mr. Aizawa looked back at her, the same mischievous stare he had given her at the exam as he raised his glasses years back was now pointing at her again.
"Didn't I tell you? I'm your designated training tutor this year, Barbie." a scruffy smirk on his face appeared as Momo's eyes glanced at him back with rage. "Night."
A roulette of emotions had suddenly started spinning inside her, and it would stop abruptly, landing on a different feeling each time. Anger as she rinsed the cups with her left hand. Anxiousness as she walked upstairs, dreading tomorrow's training. Relief as she went back to bed, grateful that things were good between them, again. There was a fourth emotion on the roulette that she couldn't quite describe, but the arrow lingered above it when she turned to the side and her right hand rested on the pillow close to her face. The smell of eucalyptus coming from the balm, mixed with a wooden, manly scent infused on the bandages put her to sleep.